


Shelter

by schweinsty



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hint of Kirk/McCoy, Tarsus IV, but it's not stated outright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweinsty/pseuds/schweinsty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jim told someone about Tarsus IV, and one time they already knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigriswolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/gifts).



> 1\. Written for a prompt on comment-fic.
> 
> 2\. Title is from a quote from a letter by Emily Dickinson, 'I felt it shelter to speak to you.'

****

October 4, 2259

“I am fine, Captain,” the kid says. He twitches, digs his fingers in the ground beneath him, and makes an obvious effort not to shy away from Bones's hands.

“Sure you are,” Bones mutters. “Jim, grab his shoulders.”

“Eh, you'll be all right.” Bones lifts Chekov's shirt and pours the contents of his flask straight onto the wound.

Chekov, more or less successfully, bites down a scream. “Really?” he asks, when he's done.

He's sweating under Jim's hands. Squirming. He's trying not to make a racket and it's taking all he has, and he doesn't have enough left beyond that to hide the fear in his eyes. Jim squeezes his shoulders.

“Bones is right.” Jim tries to smile. “I've seen worse. It hurts like hell, but just give it a week. I knew someone who got almost the exact same injury, except we didn't have a doctor. He was up and walking a week later.”

Bones throws him a look over Chekov's head, but Jim ignores it.

“And Bones here, he's the best doctor I've ever seen. You'll be back on Beta shift and flirting with Ensign Kohla by Tuesday.”

Bones does something with his fingers, then, and Chekov's fingers scrabble at the loose-packed earth.

“Why,” the kid gasps when he catches his breath. “Why was there no doctor? Where were you?”

Jim bites his lip. Aside from Chekov's grunts and Bones' occasional curse, the forest around them is quiet and still. They're alone, just this little clump of people in the middle of nowhere, just like it was back then. Chekov's older than any of the other kids were, back then, even if not by that much, and, back then, Jim was the one in Bones's place, trying to fix Huul. Holding Huul down was an Andorian kid who died, shot down, just a few hours later, whose name Jim doesn't remember. It's not the same, at all.

But it's close enough.

“Tarsus,” Jim says. “I was on Tarsus IV. Long time ago.”

Chekov's eyes pop open and fix on him—at least until Bones lets out a particularly impressive stream of curses and Chekov squeezes his eyes shut again and screams.

“You're gonna be okay,” Jim says, and he rubs his thumbs on the muscle just underneath the kid's collar bones. “You're going to be fine.”

 

****

April 1, 2261

They sit down in Jim's room, once Bones comms and tells them that Aurelan's fine.

“So what happened to you?” Sam asks. “After I left. I came back for you when I was nineteen, but Frank said you were offworld.”

He's older now, Sam is, than their dad ever got to be. It's weird to think of it that way, but then Jim hasn't thought of Sam in a concrete way since he left the Academy.

He's here now, though. He came back. Came looking for Jim, even if Jim didn't know it back then.

And it wasn't ever Sam that Jim was really angry at, anyway.

“There were some things that happened, after you left,” he starts. “And Mom thought it'd be best if I went and stayed with Aunt Grace and Uncle James for a while.”

“Jesus _fuck_ , Jim,” Sam says.

 

****

August 4, 2259

“Where'd you learn that?” she asks one night when Spock's out off surgery and they're both drunk on a mix of adrenaline and relief. “That dialect. It's a variation of Tlut, but I've never heard it before.”

Bones knows, Spock knows, and it's only a matter of time before before they get around to trying Kodos, now he and Spock have caught him, and then it'll be all over the fleet.

And besides, it's Uhura. They've saved each other's lives enough times he's lost count, by now, and she's a good person.

“I studied under Hoshi Sato for a year.”

Uhura frowns. “”I thought you grew up in Iowa? I didn't know she'd ever taught in--”

“It wasn't in Iowa.” Jim breathes. Sometimes when he sleeps, he dreams of of her and wakes up with the taste of her peppermint tea still in his mouth. She made it every afternoon he visited her until her supplies ran out. “We met on Tarsus IV.”

“Oh,” Uhura says, and then, “I'm sorry.”

Jim shrugs.

She puts her hand on his forearm and doesn't let go until Bones finds them.

 

****

June 15, 2259

“It would appear that Kodos has escaped from the cellar.” Spock ducks behind a packing crate and just misses a kill shot to the head that zings by.”And he seems to bear you a large amount of animosity, Captain.”

Jim peeks around the counter he's sprawled behind, several feet away from Spock, and almost takes a shot to the eye. “Yep.”

“It is surprising that he is attempting to kill you rather than escape.” Spock peeks over his crate, takes careful aim, and shoots back. Jim waits, but Spock mutters something, and he doesn't hear a thud. More shots soon come their way.

“Damn it.” He pokes at his comm, but but it's fried. Perfect. Stuck in a locked warehouse with an armed madman, an injured Vulcan, and no one on their crew has any idea where they are. He tries to look out and get a bead on Kodos's position again, and the shot actually singes his hair.

“It is most illogical,” Spock says.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Uh,” Jim says. “It makes sense, actually. He knows I can recognize him as Kodos.”

Spock's eyebrow quirks up. “You can recognize him as Kodos.”

“Yep.”

“Captain, the only people who can recognize him as Kodos are a select few of those who survived Tarsus.”

“Yep,” Jim says again.

Spock's eyebrow drops, rises, and drops again. His lips purse, and he stares at Jim for a full half minute.

“I see,” Spock says. He turns around and peers out between the slats of the wooden crate. “Just one moment, Captain.”

He jerks up straight and fires three times.

The sound Kodos's unconscious body makes as it hits the floor is actually pretty satisfying.

 

****

May 2, 2256

“Captain Li told me you're her best student,” Pike says. He sets a folder on the desk between them. “She said you're brilliant at negotiation, and you'll make one hell of a diplomat once you're a captain, if you work at it.”

Jim stares at the desk and doesn't squirm.

“She also told me to send her best wishes that you felt better soon. Cindrellian flu's a hell of a bug.”

Pike leans back in his chair. “It's funny, because I've never seen a man with Cindrellian flu who looked as chipper as you do.”

Jim glances up and glances straight back down.

“Explain.”

Jim' rubs his palms rubs them on his pants and It's cold in Pike's office, but the skin of his neck feels clammy when the collar of his uniform rubs against it. 

“I—I couldn't go to her class,” he starts. His throat hurts. He needs to get this out. Can't let Pike down. “Sorry, sir. I-”

“Jim.” Pike leans across the desk and bumps his hand against Jim's shoulder. “Son. What's wrong?”

Jim scrubs his hand across his eyes and looks down at his lap. “Sorry. Captain Li was—it was Tarsus IV. I couldn't go, sir I'll take the suspension if you want to tell her. I shouldn't have lied.”

Pike makes a noncommittal noise. “You lost family there, kid?”

Aunt Grace. Uncle James. Tammy and Leila and Sasha and Colin and Hank.

“I--” Jim breathes. Swallows. “Yeah. I lost. Family.”

Tammy tried to hide the children, and they shot her to death and burned her body. Kevin was so hungry when he smelled it that he cried into Jim's t-shirt, hiding in the greenhouse, because he couldn't have any. It smelled like pork, and he was so hungry.

“I was thirteen. Got in trouble with my stepdad. My aunt and uncle had a farm on Tarsus. Mom thought—mom thought it'd be good for me.” 

Pike stands up, and Jim thinks for a second that he's going to go get Captain Li. Pike just moves his chair, though, till he's sitting next to Jim. “It's okay, son,” he says. “It's fine. You ever talked to anyone about it?”

Jim bites his lip. There were counselors on the ships home, of course, but he was out for most of it. Drugged to the gills and kept in the infirmary, and once he made it home he made sure he slipped through the cracks.

He shakes his head.

“It's all right,” Pike says again.

Jim tells him everything, eventually,. 

 

****

December 25, 2256

The McCoys are good people. Kind, though not in a showy way. Bones' mom takes one look at Jim and tells him she's got a pie with his name on it, and Bones' nieces and nephews apparently decide to use him as a piece of climbing equipment.

It's the best Christmas Jim can remember having since before Sam went away.

After the big dinner, people spread out through the house to catch some sports before the gift opening or do some last-minute wrapping. Jim tries to help with the dishes, but John, Bones' brother-in-law, shoos him away and foists a toddler at him. Jim ends up ensconced on the love seat with two toddlers, a baby, and Bones's cousin's ex-wife's husband, Anders, who's very friendly and doesn't ask any questions about Jim's last name.

“You ever live offworld?” Anders asks. “I lived on Alterra IV for a couple years after I got out of college. It's where Chrissy and I met.”

Jim shrugs. “How'd you like it?”

One of the toddlers grabs the edge of Jim's t-shirt and sets his teeth on it.

“It was good,” Anders says. He lifts the baby—a seven-month-old by the name of Daffodil—up over his head. “Great learning experience. I thought I was in for an easy ride—went as a volunteer in the Medcorps—but two months in, some of the evacuees from Tarsus IV got relocated there. Never seen anything like it, and I hope to God I never do again. It was rough, you know? I'll never forget it.”

Jim jiggles a toddler on his knee and doesn't throw up. It's a close thing. “I'll bet.”

“There was this one girl,” Anders continues—and Jim takes the toddler off his knee, gently detaches the other's mouth from his sleeve, and stands.

“Hey, sorry, but I just remembered I need to wrap Bones's gift. You mind watching them for a sec?”

Anders grins and blows a raspberry on Daffodil's belly. “Go ahead, kid. Wouldn't want to disappoint Len. I don't know what magic you're working, but I haven't seen him this happy since the first year he brought Jocelyn home.”

Jim says thanks, ducks past the kids playing Kolet in the doorway, and walks out onto the front porch.

“Jesus,” Bones says when he pokes his head out the door five minutes later. He drops a pair of mittens into Jim's lap and pulls his head back inside. When he steps out again thirty seconds later, he's got a bottle of whiskey in his hands. He casts a pointed glance down at the mittens. “I didn't bring 'em out so they could warm your lap.”

Jim pulls them on. They don't help much; his fingers are mostly numb already, and he knows he'll have to head back inside soon.

Not just yet, though.

Bones drops onto the porch swing next to him with a grunt. He, at least, has a thick sweater on and a knitted cap pulled low on his forehead. He takes a swig from the flask and hands it over.

“C'mere.” His arm snakes around Jim's shoulders, and Jim leans in.

He can play this off as as being unused to celebrating holidays or having a functional family around him. Both of those are plausible excuses, and Bones never needs to kn--

“Jim, I'm sorry. Anders whips out his Tarsus story every time he meets someone who so much as mentions the word 'space'. I should have kept an eye out for him, but Ma distracted me with questions.”

Jim sucks in a breath at 'Tarsus', chokes on it, and comes back to himself a couple minutes later, hunched over with his head between his knees and Bones crouched, warm and solid, on the porch in front of him.

“There y'are, darlin' You're all right.”

“How'd you know?” Jim asks two drinks later.

Bones, back on the chair and sans a sweater, huffs.

“Damn it, Jim,” he mutters under his breath. “I'm a doctor, not an idiot.”

Jim shivers. The wool of the sweater scratches against his skin. Bones rubs his hand up and down Jim's arm, calloused fingers almost gentle.

“Is it that obvious?”

Bones sighs. “Nah, kid. Not to anybody who doesn't know you and doesn't have access to your medical chart. But me? Two mysteriously blank years, sandwiched in between trips to the ER and months of treatment for malnutrition and untreated injuries? Then knowing you, seeing how you are with kids and the way you dealt with Sykes when she had that eating problem? Doesn't take a rocket scientist.”

“Hmm.” It makes sense. Bones, for all he lacks in bedside manner, is pretty fucking brilliant when it comes to the rest of his job, and he has a heart that's kind but rarely blinded by sentimentality. “It doesn't bother you?”

Bones sighs. “Don't be an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Jim says. “Okay.”

The sweater's scratchy on his neck. Bones smells like pumpkin spice and eggnog and the soap they give out at the student union every Saturday. Jim takes another drink and watches his breath mist in the air in front of him.

They stay on the porch until Bones's mom pokes her head outside and lectures them for being idiots who'll die of hypothermia.


End file.
